At the Edge, Looking Down
by Darkpenn
Summary: This collection consolidates the Darkpenn stories relating to the movie Edge of Tomorrow.


**At the Edge, Looking Down**

 _This collection consolidates the Darkpenn stories relating to the movie_ Edge of Tomorrow.

* * *

 **Iteration #113 – J Squad**

 _Sometimes, the future is just a matter of fate._

* * *

"Hey, mate, I think there's something wrong with your suit," said some Brit guy on the other side of the dropship.

"Yeah, there's a dead man in it," said Cage. After 113 times, he didn't find it funny. Although he hadn't found it funny the first time. But it shut everyone up.

He checked his equipment. At least there was never any trouble getting more clips for the 556 and the additional grenades. And now he had the extra pop-up guns – known as angel wings – on his back. It had taken him a dozen tries to learn how to use them properly but now he thought he had the hang of them. And he had learned to keep an extra grenade in an inside pocket.

Sergeant Farell was walking through the ranks of soldiers, as the drop-doors in the floor swung open. " ... thirty seconds to deploy, ready to activate drop lines ... " he was saying.

It started a moment after that, like it always did. An explosion in the front of the ship, sweeping H squad away in a blast of flames.

The soldiers were supposed to release in sequence but Cage had learned that his best option was to go immediately. He hit the release and was on the beach in a few seconds. He looked around for Kimble. Yes, there he was, shouting that he had made it and totally oblivious to the flaming dropship about to fall on him. Cage grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away – again – as the ship ploughed into the sand. He closed his eyes to avoid the shower of dirt. But he was glad he had abandoned the helmet a dozen iterations ago. Damn thing was more hindrance than help.

"That way," said Cage to the big guy. "J squad is that way."

"How ... where ... how do you know?" said Kimble, trying to peer through the confusion of soldiers, smoke, wrecks and bodies.

Cage said nothing. Here, now, explanations were somewhat beside the point.

He knew that Sergeant Farell, Nance, Ford, Skinner, Griff, and Kuntz were in a crater fifty metres away. Right about now, Sergeant Farell would be telling Nance to provide a sitrep.

Except it wasn't a crater. It was a mimic hole. Cage began to run, flicking the safety off his gun, Kimble panting along behind.

The mimic was coming up behind the squad, spinning its way out of the sand. "Down!" he shouted, running around the lip of the crater and firing burst after burst. The mimic screamed and convulsed, severed tentacles flying off. Cage leaped in, smashing the armoured fist of his left hand into the centre of it.

"Holy ... shit," said Nance.

"Well, Private Cage, it looks as if you might be more than deadweight after all," said Sergeant Farell. "But where's your helmet, soldier?"

"We have to get out of here," said Cage. "There are mimics about to come up on that side and that side, and in about ten seconds you'll see a whole wave of them coming over that rise at us. If we stay here we all die. Will die."

A mimic suddenly appeared at the edge of the crater, just as Cage had predicted. He was already firing at it, enough to stop it in its tracks. The others joined in, Kimble finishing it off with his big gun.

"That side!" shouted Cage, and everyone turned in that direction. Another one, and their combined fire put it down.

"Uh, Sergeant, we have incoming, 500 metres!" shouted Nance, peering through the field-glasses.

Sergeant Farell looked over the edge. "Here they come," he said. "Mean as hell – "

"And thick as grass," finished Cage.

"Uh, yeah," said Sergeant Farell.

"Damn lot of them," said Griff. "Damn lot."

Cage tried to remember what had happened last time. He had told Farell that they had to move from this hole. Farell had refused, with a look that said his command would not be questioned. And they were all dead a minute later.

"Sergeant Farell," said Cage. "When I was coming in I saw a ridge over there. It ... it might be a better firing position."

"Are you suggesting a retreat, Private?"

"Definitely not, Sergeant. I'm just saying that from that elevated position we ... we might be better placed to take them as they come up."

Sergeant Farell looked at the incoming horde of mimics and then at the ridge Cage had indicated.

"Well, you might just have a decent idea there, Private Cage," said Sergeant Farell.

He gestured to the squad to fall back to the ridge.

"Wait!" said Cage. "There's one coming – "

A mimic suddenly came leaping at them. Cage deployed the angel wings and put two rockets into it, mid-air. He finished it off with his grenade launcher as it fell.

"Whoa," said Ford.

"Outstanding," said Sergeant Farell.

"I thought you said you hadn't been in a jacket before," said Griff.

"I've done it ... a bit," said Cage.

They reached the ridge. _Damn, it's working,_ Cage thought. _I've been able to save them. So far._

The avalanche of mimics was coming on.

 _This,_ thought Cage, _is where the last one ended. One came at me –_

"There!" he shouted, turning to fire at a mimic that had come swirling up from behind. He dodged aside as the tentacle that had killed him last time lashed out. He put two grenades down its throat – if that was its throat – and it exploded into fragments.

"Mow 'em," said Sergeant Farell.

The squad fired and fired at the charging aliens, guns and grenades and rockets and Kimble's cannon. For a moment, the mimics wavered ... and then the cascade changed direction, heading towards the remaining soldiers on the beach. They chopped their way through them, past the wrecked landing craft and downed choppers, and into the water.

"Woo-hoo!" shouted Griff. "We saw them off!"

"But now they're heading for England," said Cage. "There's nothing to stop them."

"Stay focused on our situation, ladies," said Sergeant Farell. "We have enough business right here."

And, indeed, there were mimics, singly or in small groups, coming at them, from all directions. Dozens. Hundreds. More.

"This is not good," muttered Kuntz.

"Just means more targets," said Sergeant Farell, as they all began to fire.

"I think there are more of them than we have bullets," said Nance.

The squad, back-to-back now, was putting down a storm of fire. Shooting and re-loading and firing and covering each other as they re-loaded again. Until –

"I'm out!" said Ford.

"Me too!" said Griff.

Skinner started to say something – but a tentacle speared him through the chest before he could get it out. It lifted him up and away.

Nance threw her empty gun down. She pulled a massive Bowie-style knife from her boot. "Come on, bitches," she murmured. "Got some Louisiana steel for you." She gave a yell and plunged into the mimic throng.

Cage, with his extra ammunition, was still firing. But he saw Ford and Griff go down. And then Kimble, swarmed as he swung his big gun like a club.

Sergeant Farell looked at the wave of mimics. "The fiery crucible," he said, softly. And then a tentacle speared him.

 _Goddamn goddamn goddamn_ , thought Cage. _I really thought I had it that time._

And then he realised he could not save them, not this way, just going around and around. It was a dead-end. He needed a different sort of help. A different strategy. Something scratched at his mind. What was it he saw every time he woke up?

His guns clicked on empty. Mimics were coming at him from every side. He reached into his pocket, felt for the last grenade. It was less painful, he knew, than death by tentacles.

As he pulled the pin, he thought: _Next time, as soon as I hit this fucking beach, I've got to find the Full Metal Bitch._

Then: "On your feet, maggot!"

END

* * *

 **Iterations #114 - #172 – Come Find Me**

 _In the depths of disaster, a thread of hope_

* * *

There were dropships everywhere, damaged, out of control, on fire, a lucky few managing to turn for home but more of them exploding in mid-air or ploughing into the unforgiving beach. But he was looking for a particular one, one with a distinctive painted nose, like the toothy grin of a T-Rex skull. He almost smiled when he thought that that had been one of his ideas, years ago – how many? He didn't know – when he worked in PR, when he was still part of the real world.

He saw it: it was in trouble, spiralling into a crash landing. He dived into a hole as it skidded past, taking out a dozen soldiers before it ground to a halt. And from the gash in its side came a squad of soldiers, big guys with big guns, already firing at the mimics spinning out of the sand. And then there was Rita Vrataski, red slash markings on her jacket, already swinging that chopper-rotor sword and traversing the angel-wing guns. Born to kill. Full Metal –

And then she got taken out.

* * *

He shouted "Incoming!" as he launched himself at her, knocking her down and out of the way of the danger. But he took something in the chest, he could feel the blood flowing, and she was telling him there was a hole there.

And then she ... wait, could she be ... ?

"Hey, did you just take my ... my battery?" he said. But she was already walking away. And a mimic was squirming towards him, and he couldn't even move. Damn, she took his battery! What a bitch!

He heard himself say: "Holy f – "

* * *

This time he got there earlier, even though it meant knowing that Kimble would be mashed flat. It took him several tries: that burst of flame got him once and that damn truck ran him over in no fewer than five iterations. But eventually he got there in time, and knocked her back into the interior of the crashed dropship.

He realised, the first time he did that, that he had no idea what he was hoping to achieve. There was only a vague plan in his mind that she might be able to call for an evacuation. Somehow, the mimics had known they were coming. A quarter of the UDF army, maybe more, had been slaughtered in the air or had not made it out of the shallows. The helicopter gunships that had been meant to provide covering fire had been knocked out of the sky by the energy bolts – or whatever they were – of the mimics. The invasion had failed. Maybe what was left could be salvaged.

But even if he was able to get to a radio he knew that he would be the last person that General Brigham would listen to. There was a possibility, though, that he would listen to Vrataski, Angel of Verdun, his most decorated soldier. A slim possibility. Very slim.

"You have to call for an evacuation!" he shouted to her.

Her response: "Get off me!"

And then a mimic hit them, tearing through the roof of the dropship.

* * *

He rolled off her, and shouted: "You have to call for an evacuation!" He lifted his gun, trying to guess where the mimic was.

He guessed wrong.

* * *

He rolled off her, and shouted: "You have to call for an evacuation!" He lifted his gun, trying to guess where the mimic was. He hit it.

"What?" she said. "Who the fuck are you!?"

"We're getting slaughtered," he said. "You have to radio the General, call for an evacuation force."

She looked out at the beach, saw what was happening. "Two problems, arsehole," she said. "First, no working radio. Second, no evacuation force. This invasion was all-or-nothing. No reserves, no back-up."

And then another mimic came in from the side.

* * *

He fired at the mimic on the roof, and it screamed as the bullets tore into it. It tried to evade but he knew where it was going to go.

"You have to get what's left of the army organised!" he said. "You're the only one that can do it! They'll listen to you!"

He put a grenade into the one coming up from the side.

She stared. Then she hauled herself up, grabbed her sword. She ran outside and into a pack of mimics. She was in the air, swinging, smashing the blade into the heart of one while she fired a rocket into another. Cage had seen it before but every time he was impressed.

He took out a mimic that was coming up behind her.

And then the dropship exp –

* * *

He took out a mimic that was coming up behind her and then ran, pushing her away from the imminent explosion. They made it to the relative safety of a ditch. They paused to reload.

"How did you get to be so good at this?" she said, staring at him. He had the feeling that she was not just making casual conversation. "You in the Special Forces?"

"No, I used to be in Army Media Relations," he said. "How about you?"

"Me?" she said. "I used to work in a supermarket. Tesco. Stacking shelves. I was ... nothing."

"Then how did you get to be the Angel of Verdun?"

She stared again. She started to say: "This isn't the first – " And then a tentacle speared through her. And another mimic was coming at him.

* * *

They made it to the relative safety of a different ditch, and again paused to reload.

"You need to get everyone that's left organised ," he said. "They know you, they'll listen to you, maybe we can make a stand behind those wrecked hovercrafts over there, set up a strongpoint."

She looked around. There wasn't much left to organise.

There was a whistling sound. And then the energy bolt hit them.

* * *

Okay, so trying to take cover in a ditch, _any_ ditch, was not going to work. Back to the dropship.

He slammed into her, knocking her down. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to save you," he said, lifting his gun and firing at the ceiling. The mimic there screamed. "You have to get us off this beach."

On his left, grenade.

"We have to go, this dropship is about to explode," he said, as they both struggled to their feet. "We have to go now."

They made it to the hole in the side.

"Wait," he said. Another mimic came leaping at them, but he was ready and gave it a full blast. It leaped onto the roof of the dropship.

Rita watched as this guy – he hadn't said his name – jumped through the gash in the hull and turned, continuing to fire at the mimic until it went down. He finished it off with a grenade. "Come on!" he said.

And then she knew.

"Come on!" he said again. "This ship is going to explode."

She stopped, staring at him. She threw her sword down.

She started to say something. He wasn't close enough to hear it.

* * *

She threw her sword down.

"What are you doing!?" he said. He took a few steps back towards her.

"Find me – "

Explosion.

* * *

" – when you – "

"What!?"

* * *

He pushed her out of the dropship, onto the beach. He ran past her, firing at a mimic.

He turned back to her, to see her throwing her sword down. He took a few steps towards her.

She said: "Find me. When you wake up."

"What!?"

"Come find me. When you wake up."

The ship exploded, an obliterating ball of fire.

* * *

"On your feet, maggot!"

He saw the bus pass. Saw her face.

 _Come find me._

END

* * *

 **Iterations #175 - #256 – Everyone's Got A Secret**

 _When you live it over and over again, you find there are things you can do. And things you can't do. And things you don't want to do. And things you have to do._

* * *

"Is this the first time we've had this conversation?" said Carter.

"The second," said Cage. "Two fingers."

"Right," said Carter. "So I've shown you the presentation then. You want to see it again?"

"I'm good," said Cage. "So ... you believe all this, then? How did that happen? How did Rita convince you?"

"A good trick if you're trying to gain allies," said Rita, "is to get someone to tell you something. A secret. Something you couldn't possibly know unless you were telling the truth about day-reset."

"Huh," said Cage. "And how do you do that, exactly?"

"Booze generally works."

"Huh," said Cage again. "Say, you wouldn't happen to – "

But Carter was already hauling an unopened bottle of whiskey from his locker. "I suppose I should say that this is my last one," he said. "But as far as you're concerned, I guess it isn't."

* * *

It was dark when Cage started to make his way back to the barracks. Skinner and Kimble came running up to him.

"Oi!" said Skinner. "You! You want to know what Farell made us do when you skipped off?"

"I already know," said Cage. "The truth is, I went to get this. You want some?" He pulled the bottle from his jacket.

"Uh ... " said Skinner.

* * *

It was dark when Cage got back to the barracks, to the room where J squad slept. He found Ford and shook him awake. He showed him the unopened bottle. "You want to join me?" he said.

* * *

Nance had almost finished the bottle and was still sober. A hard goddamn Louisiana skull on her. "You trying to get me drunk so you can nail me?" she said. "Cos I might be alright with that. Since it, you know, might be the last time."

Cage considered. It was not a bad offer, but it might make things more complicated than they already were. If that was possible. And could it accidentally transfer the power to her? Did it work that way? He'd have to ask Rita. And he kind of liked Nance, liked her bluntness, her take-no-BS 'tude. To foist the power onto her would be cruel, too cruel.

"Maybe a different game," he said. He pulled a pack of cards from his pocket and took five from the top. He looked at them and then showed them to her, and then put them face-down on the bench that they were using as a table. He invited her to scramble them around, which she did. "You pick a card, and if I can tell you what it is you have to tell me a secret," he said. "And no lying, because ... well, you know, tomorrow ... "

"Huh," she said. She picked a card.

"Seven of spades," he said.

She looked at it. Then at him. "You slippery prick," she said slowly. She threw the card down.

She thought about it for a while. Then she told him. Then she finished the bottle and started back for the barracks.

 _Remarkable_ , thought Cage. _I got it first time._

He turned over the card that Nance had picked.

Jack of hearts.

He considered what she had told him. Then he thought: _maybe some secrets can stay secret._

* * *

Carter was helping Cage into the jacket while Rita, on the far side of the training arena, was programming the simulation.

"The whiskey idea worked well enough," said Cage.

"The what?"

"Never mind."

"Tell me something, Cage. Have you ever thought of just, you know, splitting? Running off to somewhere far away, Australia maybe? Live out the next forty years – it might take the mimics that long to reach that part of the world – and then push the re-set button. Start again, go somewhere else. You could live for a long time that way."

"It's crossed my mind."

Carter nodded towards Rita. "She did it, you know. She told me she did. In the version right after the psych ward thing, she lit out for Brazil. But she came back soon after. Apparently. She said you start getting bad dreams. Maybe that's part of the visions, I don't know. But this re-set thing, it means you can do whatever you want without any consequences."

 _Hmm_ , mused Cage.

"I think she nearly broke," said Carter. "Nearly went nuts. She said once that she tried everything to get rid of the power. Booze. Drugs. Sex. Lot of sex. With anyone she could find. Even me, apparently. That's what she said. Wish I could remember it." He sighed.

"Is that how you two linked up?"

"Sort of. Actually, I've been in love with her since I first saw her. Before we even spoke. But, well, you know, she's her and I'm me. Anyway, don't tell her. That's my secret."

Cage glanced at Rita. Yeah, Rita would know. Even without the re-set power. Women always know.

The first mech-mimic came spinning towards him. It whacked into him, sending him flying.

"I wasn't ready!" he gasped.

"You think the real mimics will care if you're ready or not?" said Rita. "That was just a love-tap. Get on your feet, soldier. Play-time's over."

* * *

"We have to get over there," he said to Rita, shouting to make himself heard over the sound of battle. "That's where my squad is. J squad."

"Forget 'em, they're dead, sooner or later," said Rita. She rammed her sword into the mimic that Cage had wounded. "We have to keep going."

He looked at her. He wondered if she had been this way when she was stacking shelves. Probably.

"I can't leave them," he said. "If we save them, maybe they can help us." Without waiting for her to answer, he ran towards the crater where J squad was taking cover. He got there just as a mimic was digging out of the sand behind them. He ran around the lip of the crater, firing, driving it back down. He finished it off with two grenades.

"Holy ... shit," said Nance.

"Well, Private Cage, it looks as if you might be more than deadweight after all," said Sergeant Farell. "But where's your helmet, soldier?"

Another mimic was leaping at them but Rita launched into it, catching it in mid-air. It went down, and she hacked into it with her chopper-rotor blade. She wiped mimic-blood from her face.

"The Angel of Verdun," murmured Kuntz.

"Friend of yours, is she?" said Griff to Cage.

"We've met," said Cage.

Nance was looking over the edge of the crater with the field-glasses. "A heap of them, 500 metres," she said. "Closing fast."

Cage re-loaded his weapon.

"We can't help them," said Rita to him.

"We have to try!"

"No. No, we don't. In fact, we should leave them here as a decoy, so we can move on."

"As a what!?" said Skinner.

"Here they come, mean as hell and thick as grass," said Farell.

Rita stared at Cage. "If we stay here, we die here," she said.

Cage looked at the squad. "Then we die," he said. He hefted his gun.

"Arsehole," said Rita.

And then the mimics were on them.

* * *

"Forget 'em, they're dead, sooner or later," said Rita. "We have to keep going."

He looked at her. He wondered if she had been this way when she was stacking shelves. Probably.

"I can't leave them," he said.

"How many times have you tried to save them?" she said, as she rammed her sword into the mimic that Cage had wounded.

"A few," he said.

"Let me tell you something," she said. "At some point, you realise that something can't be done. I ... I tried to save someone. Hundreds of times. Didn't work. Shit happens. You wipe it off, you move on."

Cage nodded. He wondered how many times he had tried to save J squad. It was definitely more than a few. He knew that she was right. It couldn't be done. He hadn't been able to do it alone, and he hadn't been able to do it with Rita.

They hefted their weapons and ran on, going for a crashed dropship that might provide some cover. They were almost there when –

* * *

"Cos I might be alright with that," said Nance. "Since it, you know, might be the last time."

"I guess if you put it that way ... " said Cage. He took her in his arms and kissed her, gently, tenderly.

"But there's something I should tell you," she said softly. "It's my first – "

He put a finger on her lips. "I know," he said.

END

* * *

 **Iterations #261 - #270 - We Need A Favour**

 _You have to try everything once. Or, for Cage, many times._

* * *

If he was the sort of person who ever showed surprise, General Brigham would have showed it when William Cage and Rita Vrataski walked into his office.

"Well, this is something of a surprise," he said. "I had not expected to see you again, Major Cage. No, it's Private Cage now, isn't it. Private Cage, deserter."

"That was a nice touch," said Cage, as he sat down in the chair opposite the general.

"And seeing my most decorated soldier in your company is even more of a surprise," said Brigham. "And that she is pointing a gun at me is, I suppose, somewhat odd."

"We need a favour," said Cage. Rita sat down in one of the chairs at the meeting table. She put her gun under her shirt when there was a knock at the door and General Brigham's secretary entered.

She jumped in surprise when she saw Cage and Rita.

"Hi," said Cage to her. "We've met before but I didn't catch your name."

"My ... name? It's, er, Iris."

"That's a lovely name. Do you have anyone in the invasion force, Iris?"

"What? Uh, no. My son is in the military, but he's has been assigned as a liaison officer in Canberra."

"Iris, sit down," said Rita. "Over here."

"Er, what?"

"Sit down." Rita took the gun out.

Iris glanced at the general. "Do as they say," he said. "Private Cage, you seem to be a rather different fellow to the smooth-talking parasite you were this morning."

"It's been a long day," said Cage. "Now, about this favour."

"Whatever it is, the answer is no," said General Brigham.

"The thing is, we have come into information that indicates the location of a very special mimic," continued Cage. "The head honcho, the big cheese, the one that controls all the others. We call it the Omega. It is located in a dam in Germany. Künera Dam."

"Up in the mountains, near the Swiss border," said General Brigham. "What of it?"

"We want you to nuke it," said Rita.

"With a nuke," said Cage. "You control a fleet of nuclear cruise missiles."

"Nukes have been tried," said General Brigham. "Many times. They don't work against mimics. The initial explosion takes out a few hundred, a thousand maybe, and that's it. Radiation doesn't affect them. In a few days the numbers are back to what they were before. The Russians nuked half of Poland and the total effect was zero, aside from the fact that large parts of the country are now radioactive."

"This one is unique," said Cage. "You destroy it, it doesn't come back."

"No," said General Brigham. "I will give no such order. You'll just have to shoot me."

Rita shot him. "I never liked him," she said.

Then: re-set.

* * *

"Whatever it is, the answer is no," said General Brigham.

"The thing is, we have come into information that indicates the location of a very special mimic," continued Cage. "The Omega, like Doctor Carter said. It is located in a dam in Germany. Künera Dam."

"Ah, I should have known that he was involved in this somehow. Künera Dam is up in the mountains, near the Swiss border," said General Brigham. "What of it?"

"We want you to nuke it," said Rita.

"You control a fleet of nuclear cruise missiles," said Cage. "Yes, I know nukes have been tried before, and I know about Poland. But this is a unique one," said Cage. "You destroy it, it doesn't come back."

"No," said General Brigham. "I will give no such order. You'll just have to shoot me."

Rita shot him.

* * *

"The thing is, we have come into information that indicates the location of a very special mimic," continued Cage. "The head honcho, the big cheese, the one who controls all the others. We call it the Omega. It is located in a dam in Germany. Künera Dam."

"Up in the mountains, near the Swiss border," said General Brigham. "What of it?"

"We want you to nuke it," said Rita.

"With a cruise missile," said Cage. "Yes, I know nukes have been tried before, and I know about Poland. But this is a unique one," said Cage. "You destroy it, it doesn't come back."

"No," said General Brigham. "I will give no such order. You'll just have to shoot me."

"Rita, don't shoot him!" said Cage. "I know you've never liked him ... but don't. Not again."

"Pardon me?" said General Brigham.

"She's already shot you several times," said Cage. "Long story. Actually, it's a short story, but on a loop."

"Well," said General Brigham, looking at Rita. "I can almost believe it, aside from the obvious lunacy of what you are saying. I've read your file, Sergeant Vrataski. Petty crime, brushes with the law, dead-end jobs. You volunteered for the UDF because it was that or a stint in jail. I suppose even no-hopers can find a niche. And your niche is killing mimics. Even your promotion to sergeant was a sham, done for publicity purposes. Something I opposed, in fact."

Rita shot him again.

* * *

"You volunteered for the UDF because it was that or a stint in jail," said General Brigham. "I suppose even no-hopers can find a niche. And your niche is killing mimics."

"Rita, don't!" said Cage. "We need him. He's the only one who can order the missile launch."

Rita raised her gun. "Yes, we need you," she said. "But we don't need ... her." She swung the gun so it was pointing towards Iris. Iris gave a gasp.

"You wouldn't," said General Brigham.

"You willing to bet her life on it?" said Cage.

General Brigham was silent.

"Tell me," said Cage. "How many nuclear-tipped cruise missiles do you command?"

"37."

"So you can afford to spare one, right? It's not like they doing much at the moment. Just lying around, really. You'd still have plenty. And you'd still have a secretary."

"And it will win the war," said Rita. "If there is even a faint chance of that, you should take it. If there is a slim possibility of not sending a hundred thousand soldiers to their death tomorrow, I would think you would jump at it."

"What have you got to lose?" said Cage.

General Brigham considered. Then he turned to his computer and called up a map that showed the co-ordinates of the Künera Dam. He took a folder from his desk and looked up a series of codes. Then he made a number of telephone calls. With the last one, he read a long list of numbers and phrases from the file, and gave a series of sharp, clear orders. "It's done," he said. "So now, Sergeant Vrataski, please stop pointing that gun at my assistant."

Rita put the gun down.

General Brigham pushed a button on his desk and a panel in the wall slid back, revealing a digital map of Europe. There was a line moving from England towards southern Germany. The four of them watched it. Long minutes ticked by.

Eventually, the line reached its target and stopped.

"There you are," said General Brigham. "Now please get out of my office."

"Cage, do you feel any different?" said Rita.

"No, I'm still in, as far as I can tell," said Cage. "General, what do you think happened?"

"What do I think happened? I think the missile exploded, exactly as it was meant to. Mind you, that is a very big dam. A great deal of reinforced concrete. Our German friends are very good at building things like that."

"In my vision, it was right at the bottom of ... something," said Cage. "Maybe ... maybe the nuke wasn't enough."

"Or maybe this pompous arsehole is screwing with us," said Rita.

"Or maybe you are deeply and dangerously deluded, Private Cage," said General Brigham.

"We'll have to go there," muttered Cage. "Damn."

"You two are going nowhere, except to the brig and then an asylum," said General Brigham. He stood up, taking a pistol from a drawer of his desk.

 _Funny he didn't do that before_ , thought Cage. _I guess he wanted to see how it played out._

General Brigham pointed the gun at Cage. But it was the bullet from Rita that killed him.

* * *

"On your feet, maggot!"

END

* * *

 **Iteration #299 - See you later**

 _Learning to care about someone can take a long time. A very long time._

* * *

"What's next?" said Rita.

Cage took a moment to put a burst into the mimic that Rita had just chopped into pieces – necessary, he had learned. "A straight jog, up the hill," he said. Damn, it sounded easy when you put it like that. He wondered if any of J squad were still alive. Not that it, you know, mattered. In the end.

A couple of dead soldiers lay near them; Cage and Rita took their ammunition although their batteries were done. This was what his life was now, thought Cage: taking what you needed, not thinking about it, moving on, not looking at the mutilated bodies anymore, shit happens, and it happens over and over again.

Surprisingly, they encountered no mimics in the run up the last slope. The first time they had reached the crest and looked around, suddenly realising they were off the beach, Cage had been almost ecstatic. He had not thought it was possible. Rita had pushed him through, unrelentingly, ruthlessly. The price for this small victory had been to see her killed, again and again. Sometimes she died bravely, facing the enemy with her sword raised. Sometimes she died screaming. Sometimes ... well, she always died, was the point.

Several times, he had cried to see her dead. That had surprised him: before all this he had never been much of a one for close personal connections. Cool Cage, that's what they had called him in college. It had made him very good at the career path he had chosen. Marketing, advertising, public relations: all things that required a handsome face and a calculating attitude. You know what his most successful advertising campaign had been? A line of handguns designed for teenagers. Sales had gone through the roof, he had won an award. And he had never even picked up one of the guns, or any gun. Hadn't needed to.

And then the mimics came and his agency collapsed and the only company doing any hiring was the military. His most valuable contribution to the war effort had been the idea that the dropship used by the Angel of Verdun should have teeth painted on it. He'd been pretty proud of that, and it had led to some rigged-up television interviews. Which had led him to General Brigham, which had led him, in a roundabout way, to his current stunningly awful situation.

Now they were sitting on the crest of the hill, looking out at the holiday resort, or what was left of it, down below.

"How many times have we been here?" said Rita.

"This is the third," said Cage. "We need a vehicle, but there's an ambush waiting for us, a whole nest of them, under that trailer on the far side. And there might be more. There are three vehicles we haven't tried yet. You see that bus? Let's go for that one. But wait a second." He pulled a water bottle out and took a sip. "There's no rush. Künera Dam isn't going anywhere. We should take a rest while we can."

Rita nodded, seeing the sense of it. She took a sip of water.

"Cage," she said after a while. "Have you ever left? Said, fuck it, I'll do what I want, I'm going anywhere that isn't here, who's going to stop me. You ever do that?"

"Not really," he said. "I stole a motorbike and went to London once, but that was mainly because I needed a drink. I was there when the mimics came up the Thames. How about you?"

She stared at the collection of rusting caravans and trailers. "No," she said. "I never did."

"You didn't take the opportunity to drop in on your family?"

She grunted. "That's the last thing I would do," she said.

"Huh. Where did you wake up?"

"In bed, with a helluva hangover. With some bloke. Never caught his name. A snorer. Really bad. Like he'd swallowed a chainsaw."

Cage laughed. He had never heard Rita say anything even remotely humourous before. "And that was the day before Verdun?"

"More or less. I tell you, I could have done without the hangover. And the bloke."

"How many times did you go around?"

She shrugged. "At some point you stop counting. You?"

"Same. Hundreds, maybe. So far."

They began to move down the slope towards the bus. There was no sign of mimics. They reached the bus and climbed in. Rita got out of her jacket and eased herself into the driver's seat. There were no keys but Rita pulled some wires from under the dashboard and began to strip the plastic from them, intending to hot-wire the vehicle.

"Don't tell me, your dad was a bus-driver?" said Cage.

"Car thief," she said. "And general crim. Got put away for beating my mum up one too many times."

 _Next time around, I won't be asking about that,_ thought Cage.

She touched two of the exposed wires together. There was a spark. The engine spluttered, spluttered ... and then caught.

And suddenly a troop of mimics erupted through the floor, from the ground below the bus. The bus began to turn over. Cage, even as he was flung from one side to the other, saw Rita take a tentacle in the chest, and another in the back at the same moment. She cried out.

He was thrown down. His jacket had been damaged somehow, he couldn't get up. He couldn't even reach his gun. He prepared himself for the sensation of a tentacle ripping into him.

But it didn't happen. Instead, a mimic slowly moved over to him. And stopped. As if it was looking at him.

He managed to get one hand free, and reached into the pocket where he kept his last-resort grenade.

He turned his head to look at Rita. Her lifeless eyes stared back at him. She was not, he suddenly thought, a particularly attractive woman. Not elegant, not classy, none of the things he had liked ... before all this. But she had become the centre of his world. She had become the only thing he had ever cared about.

"See you later, beautiful," he said, as he pulled the pin.

END

* * *

 **Iterations #301 - #412 – Two fingers**

 _Sometimes, the only way to play the game is to change the rules._

* * *

The farmhouse. The helicopter. Rita dying.

The farmhouse. The helicopter. Rita dying.

The farmhouse. The helicopter. Rita dying.

The farmhouse. The helicopter. Rita dying.

And so on.

* * *

After the first hundred or so – maybe more, who was counting – iterations from the one where he had first met Rita, he had found that he felt lighter as he walked across the training arena. There she was, doing some weird sort of exercise, all taut muscle and wired-up attitude. She was the link to what passed for reality. It was her strength, he knew, that had kept him sane, kept him moving, kept him from crawling into a bottle of bourbon and staying there forever.

But there was no sense of pleasing anticipation this time. This time he felt – what? He didn't know. He only knew that he wanted to see her again. Maybe it would be the last time.

"Yes?" she snapped as he approached her. "Who said you could talk to me?"

He merely stared. For a determinedly unattractive woman, she seemed so beautiful.

"Have I got something on my face, soldier?" she said.

There was only one way to go. He knew he could not face her death again.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sergeant," he said. Then he turned and walked away, knowing that he would never do this particular iteration again.

* * *

"What do you mean, I didn't go with you to Künera Dam?" said Rita. She, Cage and Carter were in the Weapons Repair room. Carter was holding two fingers behind his back. "You mean, I was killed at the farmhouse you mentioned, and you went on alone, is that it?"

"No," said Cage. "I mean that ... we never linked up. I hit the beach, I went through the battle, I found the car, I went on, I went to the dam."

"How many fingers – " said Carter.

"Shut up, Jeremy," said Cage. He suddenly realised why it had been so easy for him to kill the mimics at the farmhouse. They had been pawns that the Omega had sacrificed to get him to Künera Dam. A trap, subtle and complex. He had only managed to escape from the Alpha and die through quick thinking and dumb luck. Next time, he might not be so quick or so lucky.

"But ... why ... ?" said Rita.

Cage stared at her. "Because ... because ... because I couldn't bear to see you die again," he said.

Rita's face darkened. "You ... weak ... prick," she said, as she took out her gun.

* * *

"The Omega isn't at the Künera Dam," said Cage. "My guess is, it never was. Which explains why the nuke didn't work."

"The what?" said Carter.

"They knew we were coming," said Rita. "They ambushed us. The visions were a trap."

Carter looked ... confused. Understandably. This was a lot to process in the space of a few minutes. He took his two fingers from behind his back and looked at them. "Sorry, what's the Künera Dam got to do with anything?" he said.

"I saw it in my vision," said Cage. "A couple of images, anyway. You put the clues together and told us it was the Künera Dam, in Germany, in the mountains, near the Swiss border."

"I did? And how did I do that?"

"You never told me."

"Oh, well, this certainly saves me doing all that research. I suppose. Or does it?"

"But the point is that we can't trust the visions," said Rita.

"They wanted my blood," said Cage. "They want their power back."

"And they'll probably get it, now they know you," said Carter. "The next iteration where you have to fight, you can bet there'll be an Alpha there, waiting. Check and mate."

"What?" said Rita. "Check?"

"Game over," said Cage. "Unless ... we can change the rules." He picked up the odd little piece of equipment from the table. "What is this, anyway?"

Carter explained how the transponder worked. Was supposed to work. How this piece of junk didn't. How he had built a prototype and had tried it explain it to General Brigham. How it had ended up in a safe in the General's office.

And then Rita and Cage were leaving for Whitehall, and Carter was staring at an empty room.

"Nuke?" he said.

END

* * *

 **Iteration Paris**

 _All or nothing. Last effort. To the death._

* * *

The dropship was bucking, aflame, spinning out of control over Paris – ruined, flooded, infested Paris – when J Squad dropped. Nance and Kuntz were sent spiralling away from the others, swirling into the night.

They splashed down into filthy shallow water. Smelled like a sewer, but worse. Much worse.

"And to think I had always wanted to see Paris," muttered Nance.

They could hear firing, and they started for it, wading through the muck in their jackets, in the strange luminescent half-light.

"A helluva thing," said Nance. "A damn helluva thing. This time thing, with Cage and the woman."

Kuntz gave a grunt.

"You believe it?" said Nance. She remembered that Cage, back in the barracks – damn, was it only an hour ago? – had said something to Kuntz, but the others had not been able to hear what it was. He had said something to her, too, softly, just a whisper in her ear. Her secret.

Kuntz shrugged. "Stranger things happened," he said.

She nodded. "Yeah, stranger things," she muttered.

The firing had stopped but now they heard something else. The engines of the dropship starting up.

They crested a rise and looked down, into what remained of a little square. They could see what was left of the dropship start to crawl, slowly, painfully. There was Cage and Full Metal, with Ford on the side gun. Griff and Skinner were on the other side of the square, firing, their backs to a petrol tanker, mimics charging at them. And then the tanker went up in a cascade of flame, incinerating dozens of mimics.

The dropship was moving, picking up speed, heading across the square. But a massive troop of mimics was between it and that weird glass pyramid thing.

"They won't make it," said Kuntz. "There's too many."

"Then let's even it up," said Nance. She raised her gun and started to pour fire into the mimics. So did Kuntz.

The wave of mimics turned, most of them coming for Nance and Kuntz, the closer targets. Spinning, wheeling, howling, screaming for blood.

"Come on, you miserable fuckers!" shouted Nance to them, as she began to fire grenades as well. _"_ _Come on!"_

All or nothing. Last effort. To the death.

Too late, the mimics realised that the dropship had got past. Many of them turned back, but they were behind it now, not in front. Chasing, not barricading.

But a dozen of them continued to charge at Nance and Kuntz. No, not a dozen, not now. Ten. Eight. Five. Four.

And then the mimics had reached them, their tentacles spearing out. Nance took one in the chest, Kuntz in the shoulder and the leg. But somehow they stayed on their feet, still shooting.

Three left. Two.

Their guns clicked on empty.

The last one, injured but still coming, threw its tentacles out, hitting both of them again. But now Nance had her big knife drawn. Louisiana steel. She plunged it into the heart of the creature. It howled one final time.

Nance and Kuntz sagged down, slumping against each other. Cut to pieces. Bleeding. Broken.

"Looks like we're both gonna die here," said Nance. "Son of a bitch."

Kuntz grunted. Then he pointed. The dropship had made it to the pyramid.

"Huh," she said. "Hey, Kuntz, tell me something. What was the secret that Cage told you, to get you to come?"

Kuntz gave another little grunt. "It's my name," he said. "Doesn't really have a z at the end. The guy changed it when I enlisted. But there's no z."

"Huh," said Nance again. "You know, I think I like it better without the z. You want to know my secret?"

But Kuntz was dead.

She touched her wounds. Blood was flowing. Not long now. But the pain seemed a long way away, as if it belonged to another version of herself.

She looked at the pyramid, thinking what a strange thing it was, here, now. And then there was a massive explosion, a shock wave screaming from it. It swept up all the mimics she could see, washing over them, turning them into blackened carcasses. The wave kept going, spreading, sweeping towards the edge of the city, and beyond, towards the horizon.

"Damn," she said softly to herself. "They did it. They really fucking did it. Cage and the Full Metal woman."

She smiled. Then she closed her eyes, and thought of home.

END AND AMEN


End file.
